


On wrongs swift vengeance waits.

by tussanus_postea



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Legilimency, Mention of Character Death, Mention of Rape/Non-con, Movie 2: Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 10:59:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13879458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tussanus_postea/pseuds/tussanus_postea
Summary: Post FB 2 - When Queenie Goldstein shows up on Hogwart's grounds, seeking asylum, Albus Dumbledore opens his door to more than a survivor of Grindelwald : he opens it to his own demise.





	On wrongs swift vengeance waits.

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning : Non-graphic mentions of past rape. A lot of manipulation, on both sides. You have been warned.

Night had just fallen outside and the darkening sky was tinted with orange and pink hues, lighting the castle in a warm glow. As it was, the two occupants of the Defence against the Dark Arts’s teacher office were too absorbed in their discussion to even glance outside and appreciate the view.

Queenie Goldstein, wrapped in a thick wool shawl and her signature blue dress, was seated on a comfy armchair, looking frail and cold. Her golden hair was up on its usual curly style, but her face, unpainted, showed only pain.

Albus Dumbledore sat across from her, behind his desk, looking every inch the benevolent teacher he was known as – except for his eyes, missing for once their sharp twinkle.

And their dispute was silencing every single portrait contained in the office, plus a number of other painted people having sneaked in at the beginning of the interview. Everyone knew who this woman was, and what America – and England – had to thank her for, but this was unprecedented, even at Hogwarts, and would be food for gossip for months.

“You claim to wish to seek asylum at Hogwarts.” Dumbledore’s voice was calm, yet his usual smile was gone from his lips. Dippet, the headmaster, had gotten Dragonpox, and he was filling in as Headmaster in the meantime, but this was an unusual request he should not have had to deal with. He’d only humoured the younger woman because of who she was.

“Yes. As soon as possible.” 

“Miss Goldstein, surely the Ministry is better suited to protect– “

“I want nothing to do with politicians, Professor Dumbledore, and I’m sure you know why. I won’t be made a martyr like they did for Tina. No, I request asylum at Hogwarts. I know it’s been done before.”

“It is old magic, it has not been used in centuries. I am afraid the Castle will only accept students risking death at home. Surely you realise I cannot allow- “

“You cannot, really, professor?”

Her soft voice had gone deadly, and Albus stilled, his wand safely within reach. Of the two sisters, he’d always been warier of Porpentina, with her strong headed attitude, but he would be a fool to underestimate this particular Goldstein.

“You cannot or you do not want to? Like you did not want to join Grindelwald’s fight?”

Legilimens. He knew she was one, he’d just thought his usual shields were enough against any of them, and he scrambled to Occlude more forcefully, standing straighter with outrage.

“I do not need to get past your shields, professor. You can protect your memories, not your everyday thoughts.” She wasn’t even looking at him, her head tilted to look at the portraits on the walls. She daintily lifted her wand, showing old bruises on her porcelain wrist, and suddenly the portraits all stilled, unable to hear anymore.

“As I was saying... Yes, I’ve known about you and this despicable man, ever since the first time we met. I am thankful you did not fall for him.” _At least any more than you already did_ went unspoken between them.

“I do not understand what Grindelwald has to do with this conversation, Miss Goldstein.” She laughed, an ugly broken breath leaving her lips.

“You mean, what doesn’t he has with it? He tortured Tina to the brink of madness, broke Newt, he killed… he killed _him_ in front of me, made him writhe and beg. Oh, he wouldn’t beg for mercy, not for him, not my Jacob. I could hear his thoughts, you see, and he just wanted me to escape, he wanted me to live. When he _died_ – a soft wet gasp, but she continued – when Gellert Grindelwald _killed_ him, I was there. In his mind. I felt… I felt him disappear. So the rest of my live will always be about Grindelwald, as will be all of my conversations, no matter what any of your ministry’s officials say or think. He tore half my heart away from me.”

Her voice was strangely flat, for all that her blue eyes were shining with unshed tears. Albus had tried to make her stop at first, but he was now sitting still, defeated, amidst the silent portraits. The violence of those words was enough to make him pause, looking behind the grieving woman to the painting of Ariana. Her painted, accepting eyes gave him the strength to keep breathing, albeit shakily. He couldn’t decipher what she wanted of him, apart from a shoulder to cry on. Maybe an ally in the Ministry, if she truly wanted protection, or she thought she could blackmail him for some purpose. He just could not see what he had to offer.

“My dear, I am sorry for your loss. I did not know Mister Kowalski for long, but he was a good man, and any friend of Newt is mine, but this change nothing of this situation. Where I to offer you asylum, you wouldn’t be any safer for it: we know there are some students who.. sympathise with Grindelwald’s views.” He monitored them all daily, but he couldn’t be everywhere at the same time. As long as those students kept a low profile and did not attack other children, his hands were tied.

“Then what can I do? I have nothing to go back to in America, no country willing to accept me with the risk of attracting Grindelwald’s eye. Do you wish for me to be murdered on your doorstep?”

Her voice had risen, finally, but she finished her sentence in near silence, eyes glazed, looking more defeated than ever. Albus pitied her for a moment, before realising her eyes were not glazed in fright or despair, but surely following his spiralling thoughts. He blinked again, putting a Shielding Charm between them on instincts, betraying his guilt and his inability to keep her out. It was all she needed, as a fierce light flickered back to life in her blue gaze.

“You know what you could do, if you were willing. You have known all along, by Morgana, you knew what to do!” Opening his mouth, Albus closed it, unable to deny. He knew what she was speaking of, knew that she’d followed his thoughts to the very deepest part of his mind. He’d let his guard down only an instant, let the young woman before him fool him as a helpless, broken girl. There was no such thing as a helpless witch.

“You are asking the impossible. To Kill Gellert – to end him as your Jacob was killed-“. It was a low stab, but Albus felt she had deserved it, invading his mind. He needed to regain control of this conversation before it spiralled too far.

“It would be for the Greater Good.” He couldn’t help his flinch. He’d planned on using her late lover to make her see the line she’d crossed, but her words were more painful than anything he could have retorted.

He feebly protested, feeling drained, “You ask too much.”

“For Jacob? I ask for the world, yes. I am willing to stay my hand, thought, and content myself with this. A lover for a lover.”

Behind him, he could hear the faint whispers of the portraits, trying their best to hear them. If she lifted her spell, let them hear, then by midnight, there wouldn’t be a soul in Hogwarts who would not know his darkest secret.

“Even if I were to agree to this – even if I were to face Grindelwald, I do not know if I could vanquish him. I have burned every bridge there ever was between us a long time ago, and he’s gained more power than you can imagine.”

“Do not patronize me. I know very well what he is capable of, Dumbledore.”

With that, she deliberately put a hand on her belly, making his breath stutter. It couldn’t be.

“Miss – Queenie, my dear, if it’s true, I can’t…” He had been speaking of his magical capabilities, forgetting how Gellert had always liked to get physical, even years ago, but this was worse, worse than what he’d thought his former lover to be capable of. The wizard suddenly felt sick and cold, wanting nothing more than to forget this entire evening, his thoughts and strategies derailed.

Ripping himself from the denial coursing through his veins, occluding as well as he could, Albus focused on his breath, trying to _think_. He could see why she wanted asylum so badly, even if it still would not work. A child – Gellert’s child. There was no reason for her to lie, not to him, not about this. She was serious, he could tell, even if she seemed too thin to be expecting. Kowalski’s death had been more than three months ago, and they had not been married yet. She would not have come for his help if it was his.  

He understood suddenly the urgency she must have been feeling: she would never be safe anywhere. She’d never find a husband willing to recognise the child, she couldn’t go back to America as an unmarried mother. Passing the child as Kowalski’s would not work, even if she forged a marriage certificate; any child of Grindelwald would surely take after him, if not in body then in mind, and magical prowess. This protection wouldn’t last, and then the German Lord would come for his heir.

Asylum was her only option, short of terminating the pregnancy, risking Azkaban in the process. And his hands were truly tied, because he could not offer it to her; she was American, she was of age, the Castle’s magic _would not work_. He would have to live with the knowledge that he sentenced her to death, or worse, at the hands of his old lover, if he couldn’t kill him first.

And he knew he couldn’t raise his wand at Gellert, no matter how much blood he had spilled, and strike him down.

“Why did you tell me?” He felt he knew her reasons; she wanted someone to suffer for what she had gone through, wanted revenge on the man – on _him_ – who had not helped when he should have. She had come here for this, under the guise of seeking help. She was too cunning, too intelligent not to have known asylum would not work. She was breaking his heart. “Do you think I do not know what monster he has become?” Ariana, and countless other since then.

Her voice was soft and her blue gaze held no tears, only determination and a hint of anger. “You knew, and you did nothing. You can put an end to his reign of fear, but you won’t. I cannot speak for all of his victims, but I know that you _owe_ me.”

So he had guessed right earlier, when thinking of blackmail. “Do you – I can pay for your living expenses, a place to give birth to the child before you give him up, if you wish-“. She didn’t strike him as a beggar, but she had left everything behind in America to help her sister.

“No.” She gave him nothing more at first, letting him flounder for another proposition. What did she _want_?  

It seemed she heard his thoughts once more, and she straightened, her shawl slipping, forgotten, from her shoulders, barring more ugly bruises. Now that he knew how they came to be, he couldn’t keep from looking at them. “You owe me. You owe me the life that was ripped from me, from Tina, from Newt, from… from Jacob. You owe me protection, and revenge. What better way than to rob him of an heir and to give it to you? What better way to make you atone for your inertia? I ask that you marry me.”

Silence followed her words. The portraits had stopped whispering, feeling the tension peak in the room even if they could not hear a word. Albus himself wasn’t sure he had heard right at first, but he couldn’t deny what she had spoken anymore than what she had suffered.

She’d played her cards well. He had no other choice. No choice that he could live with. Robbing him of the freedom to love another, marry of his own will, making him name and raise the child he couldn’t have with Gellert, oh but she was clever. It was what she had been after all along. She would be protected, her and the child, Grindelwald would know and come after them, forcing him to _choose_. Forcing him to take action against his childhood friend, for it wasn’t a choice at all, to protect an innocent child.

He closed his eyes in mourning, letting her savour her triumph. She had defeated him. He would have to salvage what he could, now, when she surely was distracted enough that she wouldn’t read him.

“A child’s life for his, then. No, do not misunderstand me – the blonde witch had seemed close to fainting, white faced and horrified at his badly chosen words. – I will fight Grindelwald if he comes for you, but you will _not_ ask his death of me. I will, I _must_ bring him to justice. Your life is not the only one he has destroyed in his rampage for power, and all his victims need justice. Surely you will not deny it to them, for your own vengeance?”

She would have, he was sure of it. If she could have gotten away with it, she’d have killed the dark wizard herself. But Albus would not budge on this condition, needed to know that behind her cold behaviour and her manipulations still resided fragments of the warm, loving, forgiving young lady he had met two years ago. If she was unable to see past her pain and her rage, unable to accept justice as an answer, he would refuse.

Hard enough, to agree to this marriage, to being the one to catch Grindelwald. He’d not taint his soul with another murder, not if he could help it, and he wouldn’t tie himself for life to a woman slowly succumbing to madness and revenge.

Turning his wand between his fingers, he stood, offering her its base to grip; every portrait suddenly came to life once more, Goldstein’s spell broken, as they understood the offer for what it was: an old, pureblood betrothal bonding.

He paid no mind to them, letting his mind defences fell one by one, caught in her blue eyes. Taking his wand from him would mean acceptance; would mean that she’d let go of Gellert’s death. She knew it as well as he did: once she took his wand from his fingers, they would be as good as married, bound not by love but by blackmail and a common desire to protect the unborn child she now carried.

Her eyes went cold, then flat, as she went through his head, letting him know she was there, for the first time. Her legilimency felt like perfume flowing on the wind, a gentle caress that was gone before he registered it. He would have no secrets from his wife, albeit one he hadn’t wanted. Finally, she withdrew, and her face took on more colours than it had possessed for the last hour. A small sob escaped her lips, one of hope and defeat, as she plucked his wand with trembling hands from his grasp.

Albus felt a deep stab in his magic core, as if he could see a tendril of his power wounding around Queenie – around his bonded, and rushed to her aid as the young woman swayed on the spot. Helping her seat again, he let her cry against his chest, dizzy with relief and grief too long contained, not knowing what he truly felt.

His eyes lifted from the trembling form in his arms to the silent portrait that adorned his office since his first teaching term. Ariana smiled at him, nodding her agreement, before mimicking the act of swaying a baby. Suddenly, the shock that had swallowed him disappeared: maybe, this way, he could begin to mend the mistakes he’d done.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ! Feel free to point out mistakes - I'm not an english native. 
> 
> I'd love to get your feedback on this piece : does it feels too easy / too quick ? Does it makes sense ? 
> 
> I will also point out that, yes, I know that Dumbledore's gay and in no way am I trying to erase his sexuality. It's basically the reason of this plot, too : that he is still so infatued with the "love of his life" that he doesn't confront him. Too bad for him that Queenie's on the market for a man that will never touch her.


End file.
